


Five Times Peter did something for Stiles and one time Stiles did something amazing for Peter

by RebaK1tten



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Five Plus One, M/M, Steter Secret Santa 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 16:25:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5463257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebaK1tten/pseuds/RebaK1tten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Secret Santa for randomingoftherandomness who wanted domestic and established relationship and fluff and mpreg.  I'm so glad I got paired with you and I hope you like this!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Peter did something for Stiles and one time Stiles did something amazing for Peter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [randomingoftherandomness](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=randomingoftherandomness).



1)    Holiday Cards

Peter leans against the white fence, careful not to knock it down. It’s just up temporarily, there to herd the crowds waiting in line to see Santa.

“Nearly there!” Stiles crows, pounding on Peter’s shoulder.

“Thank god. This has already been a rather long day,” Peter answers, pulling out his phone to check Twitter while they wait, surrounded by anxious parents and nervous children.

“Well, I did research to find the best Santa, the most Santa of all the Santas so we could get the best pictures. Sorry it’s three hours from home, but think of the pictures; they’re our first cards together, they have to be perfect.”

There’s a small gasp behind them and Stiles turns when a little girl, all blonde curls and pouty lips quivers out, “What do you mean the best Santa? There’s only one Santa. Isn’t there?” Great, he’s damaged Cindy Loo Who.

Her mother shoots them a death look and adjusts the shoulders of the girl’s red velvet dress, cooing, “It’s okay, sweetie.”

“Oh, of course there’s only one Santa! What I mean…” Stiles says, looking towards Peter for help. Peter, of course, smirks and buries his face in his phone. “I meant that seeing Santa here is the best place to see him. He goes to a lot of places to visit children, but here – well look! The tree is gorgeous and he’s brought his prettiest elves here. And his throne? Isn’t that the best, most regal looking throne ever?” He smiles, proud of himself for averting a potential melt down.

“It is pretty!” The girl says, squeezing her mother’s hand, who gives them a small, thankful smile. “You’re right, this is the bestest Santa!”

“Nice save,” Peter murmurs and kisses Stiles’ temple.

“They also have a really good deal on pictures and we’re getting the deluxe package. Oh, that’s a cute kid,” Stiles says, pointing at the family getting their pictures with Santa. Mom and Dad and a tiny baby who is dressed in a Santa romper, complete with red velvet hood surrounded by white fake fur. The first picture goes great, but then the baby turns around, looks at Santa and screams like she’s being attacked by demons.

Peter snickers and whispers, “Thank you, little girl. That might make all this worthwhile.”

While they’re giggling at the family apologizing to Santa who apologizes to them a little boy in front of them studies them carefully. He’s someplace between four and seven years old – Stiles has no idea. After a moment he says, “Are you two gay?”

“Jimmy! Apologize to the nice men!” His mother says, blushing bright red, while she tries to juggle packages so she can turn him around.

“Why? You said there’s nothing wrong with being gay,” Jimmy tells her. “My Uncle Bobby is gay,” he tells Pete with a wise nod. “He lives in Los Angeles.”

“Oh, yes, gay Uncle Bobby from LA. I think I slept with him,” Peter tells the boy and Stiles smacks himself in the face.

Jimmy’s jaw drops and his mother freezes. “You did not!” Jimmy yells at Peter. “Uncle Bobby is married to Uncle Timothy!”

“That cad,” Peter says, putting a hand to his chest. “He never told me. I’m shocked.”

The woman gives him a look that might make other men tremble; of course it makes Peter smirk. She pulls Jimmy in front of her and turns a stony back to the pair.

“You are horrible, you’re going to get a stocking full of coal,” Stiles whispers to him. “Thank god there’s only six people in front of us; I have to pee.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t be the first to lose bladder control on Santa,” Peter says, shrugging. “I mean, if that’s your thing.”

“I did pee on Santa once, when I was four,” Stiles whispers, finally understanding that they don’t need to have everyone in line join the conversation. “My mom used to tell everyone every year. She thought it was hilarious.”

Peter smiles and squeezes Stiles’ hand. This is never the best time of year for either of them, memories flooding back at the oddest time. Although this one seems to be a strangely happy memory and Stiles still smells excited. “I’m glad you have your mother’s sense of humor.”

There’s just another few minutes before it’s their turn and the pretty elf-helper-girl looks at them and tries to look behind them as she asks, “Do you have a child?”

“Nope!” Stiles answers enthusiastically. “Just us for the most awesome card ever. We want the deluxe package, with two shots and have the photos printed and emailed to me.”

“Great,” the helper says, and maybe she sounds slightly relieved. “You pay for the package after the photos. Ready?”

“Almost,” Stiles says, taking Peter’s hand and pulling him up towards Santa. “Hi, Santa, you look great, best Santa in four counties, believe me.” He strips off his coat, tossing it to the side and gestures to Peter. “Come on, Peter, let’s see the sweater.” Stiles’ sweater is red with an obnoxiously cheery snowman on it. Stiles leans over and pokes the reindeer on Peter’s bright blue sweater, making its nose light up. Then he sits on the arm of Santa’s chair and points to the other arm instructing Peter how to pose, keeping up a quick patter to Santa as their pictures are taken. It’s not supposed to happen, but Stiles gets a look in between shots and because Santa was looking at him in one, they end up with a total of four poses.

“You sure you want your sunglasses on for all of them?” Santa asks Peter who just smiles and nods.

“It’s tradition,” Stiles tells Santa. “Thank you, have a great Christmas!” Stiles tells Santa and the elf-girl and the person running their credit card and everyone still in line.

“Let’s find a bathroom for you and then I want food,” Peter says, looking around the mall for the exit.

“Okay. That was fun, thank you,” Stiles says, kissing Peter’s cheek. “You love me.”

“Bah, humbug,” Peter answers, turning his head and giving Stiles a quick peck on the lips. He strips off the offensive sweater and shoves it into a trashcan, then straightens out his t-shirt before he zips up his jacket. “Time for sugar plums or whatever.”

 

2)    Cutting Down Trees

Peter trails after Stiles, rolling his eyes hard enough that it’s giving Stiles a headache.

“Why are we here again? When we live a few miles from, oh what’s that called? The fucking nature preserve? The one full of trees?”

“We’re here because this is a Christmas tree farm. A legitimate, get your tree from here place. This is where you get trees from, not just wandering in the woods where they’re misshapen and and and – maybe they’re some animal’s home! We can’t just cut down an animal’s home, Peter.”

“You do know I eat things that live in trees, right?” Peter asks, following Stiles into the farm, brushing his hand across fragrant branches.

“Don’t be gross. These trees were raised to be Christmas trees; they’re fulfilling their Christmas destiny,” Stiles crows, throwing his arms wide as he walks backwards, only avoiding a fall, when Peter reaches forward to stop his stumble.

“Whatever, just stop quoting Friends to me when you want to get your own way.” Peter stops and looks at the tree Stiles is studying. “That one looks good, is this it?”

“Maybe,” Stiles says and pushes Peter towards it. “Stand in front of it, I need to figure out how tall it is.” He backs up and looks at Peter and says, “Spread your arms so we can look at the width. We don’t want a tree that’s out of proportion for height and width.”

Peter does what he’s told, albeit with a lot of eye rolling and sighing. Finally, Stiles pulls something out of his pocket and pulls off a length of white ribbon, holding it out to Peter. “Cut this, please.”

He uses a claw to make a quick cut and Stiles weaves it through some of the branches.

“What’s that for?” Peter asks, holding up the saw they picked up when they came in. “I’m ready to do the manual labor part of this. I assume that’s why you brought me.”

“I don’t know if that’s the right one or not. I mean, it’s good, it’s a contender. But it’s too early to commit yet. Come on, let’s keep looking.”

They repeat the process on several more trees, some are rejected and some get the special white ribbon treatment.

“You can’t tell me that one of these isn’t the right one,” Peter asks, looking at the trail of white behind them. “I’m getting bored. You know I’m not fun when I’m bored.”

“Not fun? That’s a nice way to say lethal, Wolf. Anyway, don’t you want the perfect tree for our first Christmas together?”

Peter stops and after a few steps, Stiles notices and stops as well. “First Christmas? Our first? I guess the year of hiding and the four years of college and the two years after don’t count? _This_ is our first Christmas together?”

Stiles rolls his eyes now and sighs loudly. “Our first Christmas in an apartment that we picked out together. With the same address and both our names on the doorbell. Since you insisted that I should play the field and spread my wings and all that stuff you hated.”

“And that proved that I’m the best person for you.”

“And that proved you’re a creepy massive stalker.”

“Oh, like you didn’t already know that,” Peter says and grins. He glances over his shoulder and Stiles looks back when he hears a woman’s voice.

“This one looks good, Tyler, it’s the right height and nice and full,” the woman says, standing and tugging on a branch of one of the trees with Stiles’ ribbon on it.

“It’s already got a decoration!” a little girl next to her exclaims, pointing at the ribbon.

“Um, excuse me, ma’am,” Stiles says, stalking over to her. “I’m sorry, but you can’t have that tree.”

“Why not?” a large – very large – man asks, looking down at Stiles.

“We work here,” Peter says as he approaches. “We’re checking the trees to make sure there’s no infestations or infections. That tree that you have there – spiders. Brown recluse spiders to be exact. Right about waist high. Big nest of them. Nasty things.”

The man pulls his hand off the tree as his wife and little girl stumble backwards, eyes wide.

“Just stay away from the ones with the white ribbon,” Stiles says, nodding. “Those are the ones that we need to either fumigate or destroy.”

“Sure, okay, thank you,” the woman says, taking her daughter’s hand and backing away while the man checks his hand for bites. “They should really say something when you come in here.”

“We’ll mention that, ma’am,” Stiles says and waits until they’re out of sight before he grabs Peter and has a quick fit of giggles into his neck.

“That was fun, but can you just pick a damn tree so we can get out of here?” Peter asks, giving Stiles’ ass a hard slap.

“This one,” Stiles says, pointing to the one that was nearly stolen. “You start cutting this one and I’ll go pick the other two.”

“Other two?” Peter asks, looking up from where he’s started to cut down the tree. “We’re getting three trees?”

“Sure. One for our apartment, one for the loft and a small one for my Dad.”

“Why am I cutting down a tree for Derek? If he wants a tree, he can pick one out himself,” Peter huffs, and goes back to cutting down the tree, using his claws instead of the dull saw provided.

“It’s Derek, duh. The pack’s all home for the season, and we’re going to be at his house and he’s going to have a real, decorated tree.”

“Start cutting down one then. We don’t want to run into the Brady Bunch on the way out.” Peter hands the saw to Stiles and says, “So how are we getting all these decorated?”

Stiles kneels by the next tree chosen tree and starts to saw. “First we just get them delivered and in their stands so they can rest. That lets the branches relax; at least that’s what my dad says.”

“Sounds wise,” Peter answers. He’s finished with tree number one, laying it down on the ground. “And then?”

“For Dad’s, we’re having dinner with him on Friday, so we’ll decorate his then. He’ll be really happy and I know he wouldn’t do anything himself since I’m not home.”

Even over all the pine and earth, Peter can smell his mate. Now there’s a bit of worry and melancholy mixed in with his normal spicy scent. “I think he’ll enjoy it, especially if we do it after dinner. And of course we’ll have Christmas dinner at our house, so he’ll get a dose of two trees,” Peter says, as he watches Stiles struggle with the tree.

“Yeah, that’ll be good. I took some of our ornaments so there’ll be some on both trees.” He stands and waves Peter over. “Finish this one, I’m picking out the smaller one for Dad.”

Peter obeys, using claws to make quick work of the trunk. “And the other two?”

Stiles points at a smaller tree, one that will fit in the smaller Stilinski living room and says, “This one is Dad’s. For Derek’s, maybe we’ll have the pack over Saturday afternoon for lunch and to decorate the tree. That’ll work.”

“And our tree?”

Stiles grabs the trunk of the smallest one, checking to be sure Peter has the other two as he starts to walk towards the front. “We do our tree decorating on Saturday night. Naked tree decorating.”

“So I do the first two and I get a reward? Clever boy.”

Stiles grins over his shoulder and sways his hips as he drags his tree to the cashier. “Just call me Pavlov.”

 

3)    Shopping for Christmas Presents

“Is this necessary?” Peter asks as he follows Stiles down the small, but crowded, downtown street. “Didn’t you get your shopping done online this year?”

“Most of it, yes, but there’s always a few things that need to be picked up in stores.” He pulls out his phone and looks at something, then pulls Peter into a nursery. It’s warm and humid inside and both men instantly unzip their jackets as Stiles moves towards the counter, smiling at the woman who obviously recognizes him.

Peter busies himself looking at the array of plants growing, trying to remember what items Stiles already has and what ones he might be able to use. Plants seem to mysteriously appear in their apartment and on the deck and Peter’s not sure which ones Stiles might want or need for a new potion.

They stop off at the car, storing the box in the trunk. “We need to get something for Chris and frankly, I have no idea what to get him.”

“We? We need to? Why is that?”

Stiles huffs and says, “We, because then it’s one present only and I can’t think of one let alone two. And yes, we’re getting him something. He’s pack, and so’s his daughter. Oh and he’s sleeping with Derek, so yeah, he gets a Christmas present. Any ideas?”

“What says I’m sorry about your life choices? Maybe just get him a sympathy card and wreath of flowers?”

“Funny. You’re a funny, funny man. Okay, we need to go to the bookstore, maybe something there will jump out at us.” Stiles points up the street and leads the way to a small store, next to Peter’s favorite coffee shop.

“Surely you brought books on line?” Peter asks, looking longingly at the small cafe.

“No.” Stiles says, turning and giving Peter a stern look. “It’s important to support independent book sellers. I ordered a few things and they’re here for pick-up. Come on, we’ll get coffee afterwards. Maybe their peppermint brownies, too.”

Peter follows him into the shop, which is no great hardship. They separate, each looking for their own interests, Peter’s being history, mainly the British Isles and Britain, where his family originated. He ends up sitting in a cozy chair, small pile of books by his side when Stiles approaches.

“You ready to go? Oh, wow. You want those?”

Peter looks up, forcing himself to focus on the here and now. “Hmm. Yes, I suppose I’m ready. I think I’d like to get a couple of these.”

“Hmm.” Stiles takes the books Peter hands over and asks, “No chance you’ll let me wrap them and put them under the tree, is there?”

His response is a toothy smile and quick kiss on the cheek.

“Well, alrighty then. Next stop is the toy store up the block and then we’re done.”

“Toy store?” Peter asks, with an eyebrow to make any Hale proud. “Secret children you haven’t told me about?”

Stiles shrugs and makes his way to the front register. “Secret Santa stuff. Toy drive for children who don’t usually get toys. It’s been at Dad’s work for years, I always get a few things and…”

Peter grabs his arm to stop him and says, “Sounds lovely. Let’s throw in a few books as well. There’s probably some children a little like us, who would have appreciated a few books as gifts.”

By the time they’re done shopping, their purchases from just the bookstore are in three heavy bags and two of the bags end up in the toy barrel at the Sheriff’s office. Another couple of bags from the toy store and they’re ready for the next stop in Stiles’ Christmas extravaganza.

Still without any idea of what to get for Chris.

 

4)    Movie Marathon

There’s hot cider and hot chocolate. Homemade Christmas cookies, along with fudge and cranberry nut bread. Stiles has the fireplace blazing and extra blankets from the closet covering the sofa.

“Okay, you ready for the movie marathon?” Stiles asks, plastering his back against Peter’s chest, remote grasped in his hand.

“I suppose,” Peter says, looking at the stack of DVDs on the table in front of them. There’s easily a dozen movies stacked up, probably more, and Peter glances at the titles. “Is there any order to this? A Christmas Story, Elf, It’s a Wonderful Life… do you like oldest to newest or saddest to funniest or….”

“It has to start with Rudolph and it has to end with Love Actually. Other than that, we can shuffle them around,” Stiles says, blowing on his cup of steaming chocolate, which to Peter looks like half marshmallows,

“Do we have A Christmas Carol in here somewhere?” he asks, reaching over Stiles to grab a sugar cookie Stiles made in the shape of a candy cane.

“Of course!” Stiles says, elbowing Peter in the hip. “We have the Alastair Sims one, we have Mr. McGoo, we have the Muppets…I think I may have the Bill Murray one, or we can download that if you’re into it.”

“Alastair Sims is fine, thank you. So what else are we watching?”

“We’ve got Rudolph and Charlie Brown, of course, because you need those. A Christmas Story, Elf, The Grinch – the cartoon one, cause the movie version blows – Miracle on 34th Street, The Ref, Bad Santa and of course we end with Love, Actually.” Stiles leans back into Peter’s chest and queues up Rudolph, his contented smell rolling off him, stronger than his hot chocolate.

Stiles sings along, saying the lines with the characters. Peter tries to avoid it, but he’s actually kind of charmed. Until a few minutes later when he hears Stiles sniffing and smells his tears.

“What’s wrong, are you okay?” Peter asks, pulling his mate over to study him. “Are you sick? What happened?”

Stiles swipes at his eyes and turns back towards the TV, saying, “I’m fine, but this is sad. Aren’t you watching?”

Peter shrugs as well as he can smushed on his side against the back of the couch. “I’m watching, but I’ve seen this a hundred times. Why are you crying?”

“They’re misfit toys, Peter! They’re abandoned and they’re never going to be loved by a child!”

“Oh for god’s sake, give it ten minutes and they’ll be fine!”

Stiles turns back over, and pulls out a tissue he had shoved under the couch cushion. “Get used to it, this won’t be the first time I sniffle tonight. Wait for the Love Actually cry-fest. When she realizes the necklace he bought isn’t for her and…”

Peter rubs his nose into Stiles’ neck, just to be sure he’s not really sad or sick. He smells content, warm and drowsy. “Is it too early to bah-humbug again?”

“You’ll have plenty of time for that. We’ll get through about half of these tonight,” Stiles says, sighing contentedly, adjusting the blanket around his chest.

“Tomorrow? There’s more tomorrow?” Peter asks. He attempts to sit up and Stiles pushes him back down.

“Well we can’t finish them all tonight! Don’t push your luck, Wolf. I really do have enough versions of A Christmas Carol to do a marathon of just that.”

Peter settles down with a huff, grabbing another cookie. “Bah-humbug,” he says, rubbing his nose in his mate’s hair.

 

5)    Christmas Dinner with the Pack

Peter wouldn’t be able to explain how it’s happened, but Christmas dinner ends up at Derek’s loft. With everyone. Positively everyone, the entire pack and parents and siblings. All of those in the know about werewolves and the pack crammed into the loft, moving around tables loaded with food. Extra chairs were brought in, but most people are sitting for only a couple of minutes before they move to a new group, grabbing more from the buffet and talking with people they haven’t seen for months.

“This is great, isn’t it?” Stiles asks, bumping his shoulder against Peter’s. “I think this was the right way to go. Otherwise, everyone would have just been with their own families, and we wouldn’t have all been together. With our pack.”

“Oh, yes, god forbid we have a quiet family dinner.”

“Come on, Scrooge, you know this is good. This _is_ our family, plus we have a ton of food. Have you tried Mrs. Reyes’ tamales? I think she and Melissa are going to have a tamale competition.” He gestures to the table where Erica’s mother is cleaning up around some of the platters while talking with Boyd. Who is putting more tamales on his already full plate, next to some sliced ham and macaroni and cheese.

Peter nods, giving a small, reluctant smile. “I’ve tried a bit of most things, thank you. The buffet was a good idea.”

“I think so. This way no one family had to do everything and we all get lots of variety. And I think it’s good that we’ve got Erica’s and Boyd’s siblings here, too.” The siblings in question are mingling, maybe a little nervous, because while they know Erica and Boyd are werewolves, and they feel safe around them, they haven’t spent too much time with the whole pack.

“Hey, Stiles,” Scott says, making his way over and giving Stiles a one-armed hug. “Did you make your chocolate pie? Please say yes!”

“You bet, it’s not Christmas without it!” Stiles squeezes Peter’s arm, gives him a wink and drags Scott over to a table full of pies, cakes and cookies.

Peter doesn’t have a chance to decide what to do next (since leaving isn’t an option) before Erica plops down in the armchair next to him. “Move over, Uncle Creepy,” she says, shoving into him with her hip.

“Nice to see you, too, dear,” he says, sighing. She’s actually one of Peter’s favorite, with a wicked sense of humor and flexible morals. That she pleasing to look at, and knows it, makes her completely a woman after his own heart. After all, there’s no need for false modesty when you’re gorgeous.

“You look in pain, so I thought I’d come over and brighten your night,” she says, sipping her drink from a bright, red plastic cup. “Hate all these people in your space and around your boy, don’t you?”

He takes a minute to look around the room, catching Stiles’ eye and smiling to let him know he doesn’t need rescuing. Derek and Chris are by the bar, showing Allison and Isaac the amulet Stiles found for Chris’ gift; it hides his heartbeat, which might come in handy if he’s hunting something. Or it’s just a good way to mess with Derek’s head; either option is good.

“If it were my house… well, it would never happen. But it’s okay here, I suppose.” He sniffs the air as she takes another sip and leans close to her, to whisper in her ear, “So do your parents know yet?”

Her head whips round, fast enough to hurt a non-werewolf, blonde curls slapping his face. “What do you know? Who told you?”

He smirks and says, “You did, my dear, just now. But I’ve been watching you and Boyd whispering together and I’ve noticed that you’re drinking a non-caffeinated soda, instead of your usual tequila concoctions. So… Is it Boyd’s?”

She elbows him, hard, in the stomach and he can’t help but make a small ‘umph’ noise, making a few heads turn. It might say something that when people see it’s only Peter and Erica, they turn back to their conversations. “Of course, it’s Boyd’s, you pig, who else’s would it be?”

“I don’t know, you’re a beautiful woman,” Peter says and shrugs, rubbing his stomach. “If you’re trying to keep it a secret, you should stop petting your belly – that’s a dead giveaway.”

“You’re pretty horrible,” she says, sitting back and studying him. “What does Stiles see in you?”

“Well, I’m very good in bed,” Peter answers, giving her a smug smile. “In fact…”

Erica raises a well-groomed eyebrow, and interrupts, saying, “I doubt that’s enough, he’s told me about his other skilled lovers. You must have some hidden good qualities. Deeply hidden, maybe. Like really, really deeply hidden.”

“When I find out what they are, I’ll let you know.”

She snorts and stands, smoothing down her skirt and bending down to whisper. “It’s a secret for a while. We’re not saying anything until…”

“You get through the first trimester,” Peter says and this time his smile is soft and genuine. “I know. It’ll be nice having a new baby in the pack. Congratulations, my dear.”

“Maybe you’re not a total dick,” she says and kisses his forehead.

 

And One from Stiles

“This is nice,” Stiles whispers. They’re on a blanket in front of the fire and he’s in Peter’s arms, enjoying the post-sex endorphins.

Peter drags his nose up Stiles’ neck, nipping the spot just behind his ear that always gets a shiver. “Nice? Just nice? I should be insulted.”

“No, the cuddling is nice. The sex was great, but at this point, that’s kind of my expectation.” Stiles rolls over so he can rest his head on Peter’s chest, one hand tucked under his neck. “Thanks for doing all the holiday stuff, I know it’s not really your thing.”

“No, but it is yours. I hope you enjoyed yourself and that I didn’t disappoint too much.” Peter strokes Stiles’ hair, brushing the sweaty strands off his face. “When can we take down the tree?”

Stiles snorts and tugs at Peter’s hair, saying, “For a guy who loves the woods so much, you really seem to hate the tree. It’s only January first, maybe you can wait until the third at least?”

“My enjoyment of the woods is why having a tree in the house seems odd. But I do like the lights, I guess.”

“I remember when I was a kid, my mom used to put Christmas movies on and we’d sit with just the TV and the tree for lights. Maybe we can leave up the lights around the window and on the balcony?” He looks up at Peter’s face, eyes shining from the light reflected off the fire.

Peter kisses him softly and gently guides his head back down. “Stop with the doe eyes, boy, I can’t say no when you do that. Yes, we’ll leave the lights up.” Stiles snickers and kisses Peter’s chest. “You have a lot of little rituals for holidays, Stiles.”

“I guess so. Don’t you have any from childhood – things you’d want to do with our kids?”

“Our kids? Hmm, we didn’t do a lot of Christmas things, actually. But, I suppose – if she’s willing – I’d show Erica and Boyd’s cub some traditions for the summer solstice and the winter solstice. Those were more our holidays.”

Stiles inches up, so he’s whispering into Peter’s neck, leaving gentle kisses. “Erica’s kid? Not ours?”

Peter’s quiet for a minute, trying to think where this discussion is going. “We know Erica’s pregnant. I don’t think we’ve discussed raising children, have we?”

“Well…” Stiles untangles himself and sits up, turning and sitting cross-legged so they can look at each other as they talk. “We haven’t talked about it recently, but we did a while ago. And I know you had a child, so I think you like them.” He touches Peter’s hip and smiles fondly. “I know you like them, and you’re pretty good with kids. When you’re not a total dick. I think you’d be good if it was our kid.”

“I wouldn’t hate adding a child or two to our family,” Peter says quietly. He raises his hands over his shoulders, burying them under the pillow so Stiles can’t see if they’re shaking slightly.

Stiles keeps a hand on Peter, smiling as he watches. “I wasn’t ready before. I don’t think either of us were, but I’m thinking maybe now would be a good time to start. Erica and Boyd are having one, so our child would have a playmate; that would be fun, watching them grow up together.”

Stiles smiles, watching Peter’s pulse beat in his neck. His wolf doesn’t ask for a lot and hasn’t brought up the topic of children for the last few years, but the increased heartbeat is a dead giveaway, as obvious to him as it would be to a wolf. “Yeah, it seems like it might be time.  I can check with other packs and see if they know any cubs that lost their parents. Sometimes, with hunters…”

“Oh! I hadn’t thought of that,” Stiles exclaims, rubbing a hand over his suddenly pounding heart. “Yeah, do that. But I was also thinking….there’s magic. If you’re interested in growing our own.”

“Magic? You have a spell that could get you pregnant?” Peter knows that Stiles has a lot of magic in him and he’s been training since he started college. And now Stiles’ smell is amused and excited and there’s something that smells like gloating.

“Well, you have a part in it, too. A very important, _very big_ part,” he answers, waggling his eyebrows the way he used to do in high school. “So… next full moon, do you want to make a baby?”

“Yes. Very much, yes.”

Stiles lies back down next to him, wrapping a bare leg around Peter’s. “You should still check with other packs, I hate the thought of little orphan wolves. But our baby, that’s good, too.” Suddenly he sits up, huge grin on his face. “Man, next year’s Christmas card is gonna be awesome!”

Peter sighs and pulls his mate back against his chest. “Let’s put away this year’s decorations before we start next year’s?”

“Love you, Peter,” Stiles says, burrowing into Peter’s shoulder.

Peter kisses his head, and whispers, “I love you, too. Happy New Year’s, Stiles.”

 


End file.
